


Being There For You

by TheWorkoftheHeart



Category: One Piece
Genre: Canon Compliant, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sanji Is Not A Vinsmoke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:27:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25716532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWorkoftheHeart/pseuds/TheWorkoftheHeart
Summary: If he needed to see anything, it was the smile of his captain to tell him he was okay.
Relationships: Monkey D. Luffy/Roronoa Zoro
Comments: 10
Kudos: 119





	Being There For You

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the warnings!

Zoro doesn’t understand why it still stings so much, but it does. 

He still remembers the woods, tranquil in its silence, the current of the small rivers and waterfalls leading down the hill echoing in his ears as tough bamboo struck against the bark of stronger wood. Zoro remembers the satisfying crunch of both with his impact, how he cheered at the successful dent in the solid oak. 

He remembers the urgency of words from three of his peers, though their body language spoke a different story; one of finality, an unchangeable ending. “Kuina fell down the stairs,” they explained, but Zoro knew it was so much deeper than that. He knew Kuina for years, knew her battles like the backs of his hands, however silent they were, masked behind all of her victories; seeing her father’s face only solidified this truth, though the lie continued throughout his adolescence, his teenhood, even to his departure. 

He holds her sword a little tighter today than most other days, unsure why the gap in his chest was so heavy and unrelenting; he was nine then, he’s twenty-one now. Eighteen years, but the scar never faded; no, it never even seemed to heal. 

He must’ve been more on edge today, too. The whole crew seemed off and wary, as though tip-toeing on eggshells around him— Sanji wasn’t nearly as aggravating today, Nami not as devilish, Franky not as boisterous. If Brook was setting up to play and noticed Zoro in the room, he’d quietly excuse himself without saying a word.

He didn’t like that his crew was acting strange. It felt targeted; pressing his ear to the kitchen walls he could hear energized chatter, but when he clicked open the door the volume would decrease, accompanied by a saddened smile or a gentle “hello”. He wanted to run his hands through his hair and rip it out strand by strand, each little thing so out of place driving him closer to the edge. 

He has a faint memory of sitting on the floor in the dining room, back to the wall, listening to the chatter of a finishing dinner, before it fades into a void of dreams— nightmares— all in the shape of Kuina. Her traveling farther down, farther away, no matter how fast Zoro would run— he ran as far as his stubby childish legs could carry him, felt himself running with the lungs of a teenager, the stamina of himself now as an adult. Nevertheless, she was faster, stronger even in his dreams, never able to catch up to her. He woke up gasping and reaching out. His bulging eyes were met with the concerned eyes of the remaining post-dinner crew.

“Zoro-bro? Are you okay?”

Franky’s voice brings him back to reality a touch too suddenly. He’s not in an endless tunnel chasing Kuina but instead in a cramped corner of the floor, stumbling to stand. His clothes feel heavy with the bandages of previous battles underneath and he just wants to be alone right now, he thinks. 

“I’m fine,” he begins, but Sanji’s quick to cut him off. 

“You’re not fine, moss-head, you were restless.” He taps his cigarette and embers flutter to the ground, unperturbed. 

“Was it nightmares about those pirates we had to fight?” Robin asks, quietly inquisitive, but not begging an answer. There’s a solemn touch to her voice, one that matches the pain in his bandages; yes, she gets those too, but the one Zoro had was miles different. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” It sounds harsh coming from Zoro when the environment was so welcoming. He’d have left already if it weren’t for Luffy in his way, looking at him, analyzing him with his head tilted to the side as though digging through answers.

“If you need to talk, we can listen.”

“We’re your crew, Zoro.”

“Yeah! We can help.”

Zoro’s words feel like a sword’s blade on his tongue. “I _said_ I’m—”

“Zoro.”

It’s Luffy’s voice now, and it gets everyone’s attention, drawing his silence. 

“Maybe you’re angry now, but we’re nakama, remember? We’re here to help you.”

Luffy ends his statement with a smile, one full of reassurance, topped with the bright red cherry of his never-wavering enthusiasm.

And Zoro sees that smile— God, that smile— and in an instant, he’s gone, walls crumbling at his feet as he sinks onto his knees, tears escaping eyes so exhausted from holding them for so long, because if he needed to see anything, it was the smile of his captain to tell him he was okay.

“Wh— Zoro,” Luffy sputters out, hardly able to anticipate the reaction as it comes, and he sinks to Zoro’s level, holding his shoulders taut in his hands. Zoro’s arms are wrapped around his own bandaged stomach and he’s sobbing now, unable to control the steady flood of tears and suffocated cries escaping him. It feels vulnerable like this, and he hates it; it’s an uncomfortable push in his gut, like wine in old green bottles finally collapsing from pressure, the whole cellar filling with sea waves of dark crimson and violet, working its way to the top, finally escaping. 

“Zoro,” Luffy restates, and it’s quieter this time, softer this time. He pulls his first mate forward, just an inch, and feels how Zoro falls against his body, head finding the perfect crook in his neck and resting there. His face is hot and wet and uncomfortable, he notes, and he wraps his arms around Zoro so cautiously. He closes his eyes and rests his head against his first mate, not knowing what to say to make these feelings stop. It’s not like anyone else on the ship would know either. 

Zoro’s only ever cried once, that the crew can remember; even then, only a few were present for it. Bandaged, on his back, sword piercing the heavens, screams of desperation flying out of his throat before blood worked its way to the corners of his lips and Johnny begged him to stop. His emotions, his feelings, his tears, it was all so unusual to everyone. It was unfamiliar, but welcomed, like the long-anticipated arrival of a friend. 

Time began to pass, ever so slowly. The initial eternity began to feel more like minutes, Zoro’s crying beginning to soften in Luffy’s ear. Luffy trailed his finger down the scar on Zoro’s chest and wondered how many scars like this were held beneath his skin, raw and hurting and untreated, ones only now beginning to heal. Luffy leaned his head back a little, ensuring to move so his neck wouldn’t misplace Zoro’s face, and he looked to the remnants of the crew standing behind him: Sanji, ever worried in his stature; Robin, eyes soft, smile weakened; Franky, one arm around Robin’s waist, eyes overflowing with concern. 

“You can go now, I can handle it from here.”

Luffy’s words feel loud, even to himself; loud is his nature yet it feels inappropriate here, like somehow his whisper should’ve been just soft enough to hardly pierce the air. 

Robin’s the first to respond, though it’s after a moment’s hesitation. “If you’re sure, Captain.”

Her words are the cue for the three to leave out the door of the kitchen, leaving Zoro and Luffy in the dim darkness of the amber lights on the wall. 

Zoro’s head finally moves from its place. Luffy moves his head back, worried he’d shuffled Zoro from his position, but finds instead that he was moving to wipe his eyes, giving a hard sniffle to indicate the end of his sobbing. 

“‘m sorry about that,” Zoro mumbles. Immediately, Luffy argues it. 

“No, Zoro. You needed to cry. I don’t know why you’re upset, or what you’re crying over, or what’s made you sad, but... I haven’t seen you cry in a long time. I’ve seen everyone else cry, but not you. You need to sometimes. We love you, Zoro, _I_ love you.”

The words are soothing, despite the odd definitiveness of it all. Zoro can only chuckle, using his palm to wipe away tears that continue to drip down his cheek. 

“I love you too, Luffy.”

“And you’re allowed to be sad, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I mean it.”

“Sure you do.” Zoro’s pushing, just a little— the edge of his breakdown is fading, an almost invisible smile curling onto his lips. 

“I mean it!” comes Luffy’s exclamation, brought on by a gentle fit of laughter that Zoro was egging on to hear. The way Luffy looks in the dim light, so supportive, still glistening with happiness despite seeing his closest friend break down— it makes Zoro’s ears and the tip of his nose run oh-so-warm. 

“I know,” Zoro responds finally, leaning forward to kiss Luffy softly. “Thank you for... lettin’ me cry on you. I know that wasn’t pretty.”

Luffy just shrugs uncaringly. “It was just me being there for you,” he answers, and that’s the only answer Zoro needs.

**Author's Note:**

> tw for suicide mention, but I saw a headcanon once upon a time that Kuina’s death wasn’t an accident like it was made out to be, and it stuck with me ever since. I worked it into a hurt/comfort fic with some Zoro comfort because we’re really lacking in Zoro getting the comfort he needs.
> 
> If you liked this, please follow me on Twitter, @hanahana_no__mi! Thank you!


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